What Was Meant To Stay Buried
593 Words
The next morning, Luna woke before the sun.
Her dreams had twisted into something else, no longer visions of fire but a voice. A woman’s voice, calm and coaxing.
“You are more than they told you.”
Her body ached. But something inside her ,instinct, maybe was pulling her toward answers.
She didn’t eat breakfast. She didn’t leave for school. She waited until the house emptied, then crept into the basement.
The air was cold, damp with the scent of old wood and ash.
They never used the basement. She had only been there once as a child, and even then, only briefly. She remembered a storage closet, rusty paint cans, and the heavy wooden chest against the far wall.
That chest was still there.
Covered in dust, but locked tight.
She knelt down, fingers tracing the carvings burned into the lid. Faint… almost invisible now… but they shimmered slightly under the weak light.
A sigil.
A warding mark.
Not paint. Not ink. But something magical.
She found the key inside an old cigar box above the washing machine. She wasn’t sure how she knew it would be there, but something guided her.
The lock clicked.
Inside the chest: folded cloth, a bundle of letters tied with twine… and a strange box carved from obsidian. Cold to the touch, even in her warm fingers.
She opened the letters first.
They weren’t addressed to her, but to her adoptive parents. From a woman named Solara.
Her mother.
If the child shows signs too soon, don’t panic. Keep her in ignorance. Let the magic remain buried until it awakens. She is safer that way, and so are you.
But if the fire stirs before the moon turns seventeen...
You must tell her the truth, or she will become something far worse than me.
Luna’s hands shook as she lowered the letter.
Inside the obsidian box was a small amulet: a crescent moon held by raven wings.
When she touched it, it burned but didn’t hurt. Instead, it lit up her palm in a violet glow. Her skin hummed with energy.
And for the first time, the voice from her dreams spoke clearly.
You are my daughter, Luna.
You were not born to be tame.
Luna snapped the obsidian box shut, her heart pounding in her ears.
She tucked the amulet into her hoodie pocket, quickly shoved the letters back into the chest, and reached to close the lid.
"Luna?"
The voice froze her.
She turned sharply.
It was Sienna, the older of the two daughters, standing halfway down the basement steps, her arms folded tightly across her chest, face pale.
“How long have you been down here?” Luna asked, trying to sound calm.
Sienna’s eyes flicked to the open chest. “Long enough.”
Luna’s jaw tightened. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad.”
“I should,” Sienna said quietly. “But I won’t. Not yet.”
There was a pause. The only sound was the drip of a leaky pipe.
Then Sienna stepped closer.
“I’ve seen it, you know. The way your eyes change. The way things… move when you're angry.”
Luna took a step back.
“You’re not like us,” Sienna whispered, voice trembling. “And you’ve never been.”
Luna’s mouth opened, but no words came.
Sienna shook her head, biting her lip, then turned and ran up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.
Luna stared after her, fingers still clutching the amulet in her pocket, her blood buzzing, her secrets no longer buried.
- Writer
